


Rebirth:Redemption

by Rose Mina (Ardent)



Category: Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Non-Explicit Canon Rape, Spoilers past NT9
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 02:42:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardent/pseuds/Rose%20Mina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asami and Takaba learn to compromise. But in Asami’s world, compromise can lead to his downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Oct. 1, 2006 on Livejournal. Original published date on AO3: 2011-04-15
> 
> Edited to add (February 20, 2016): It's been almost a decade, and while I won't be ashamed of any work that has been a pivotal stepping stone on my writing journey, I still feel weird continuing/updating this story with the awkward grammar that currently exists in it. So I'll be sweeping through and cleaning it up before posting any additional chapters. 
> 
> Yes, I'm continuing this fic. 
> 
> Yes, I'm that ridiculous person that went through their manga collection, trying to decide what to sell and what to keep and ended up re-reading the whole series instead, ahaha. Call me weak.

It was that dream again. The dream where he was surrounded in warmth, within arms that were firm and at times unintentionally gentle. It was a place he found himself wandering into lately; he'd been losing himself more and more frequently in the last few months since he’d been in Feilong’s captivity. Dreaming that he was safe in that person's arms.

He ignored the manacle digging into his ankle, ignored the gritty, greasy feeling of his hair against his scalp. He forgot about the dried, salty tracks that trailed down the corner of his face, tears forcefully wrung from him when the hands got too rough, the objects too large, the force too deep. He forgot about the raised design branded onto his skin. Most of all, he forgot everything.

Everything except his dream.

A dream that felt so visceral that it seemed real. Gentle, calloused hands tugged him up to a rumbling chest, fingers digging into his back as if fearing he would run. He had no strength left to run at the moment. A rich, baritone voice launched orders, or what sounded like orders to him. He let the comforting sound wash over him like something soothing and repetitive, like background chatter or the constant hum of a washing machine. He’d felt this before, he’s sure, this deep concentrated atmosphere: control, fervent, assured.

 _Safe_.

Without ever opening his eyes, he let his consciousness drift.  
  


༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  ༒

 

To say that he was glad Takaba was unconscious during the flight back to Tokyo was a gross understatement. He didn’t need a doctor's diagnosis to know that the man was badly injured. But there was no way he would allow Takaba to remain in Honk Kong for any longer than he already has. The first two doctors cautioned against transporting Takaba so soon after being treated, but the third signed off on the trip.

That was all Asami needed.

He bundled up his precious cargo and immediately transported them to his jet. It didn’t matter to him that he'd been high-balled in price when he'd searched for an air field to land his private jet in. All he cared about was that Feilong was having an important political meeting that required a grand showing of his manpower. Aside from some guards, Feilong's loft was carelessly empty. Asami would not have made the same mistake, not if he had someone valuable like this.

Asami retrieved Takaba with a minimum of bloodshed or dramatic flair, to keep from further straining his relations with Feilong. For now, at least. However, his bitterness at being shot, as well as having Takaba stolen from him right in front of his eyes, was an insult that he won't let go unanswered.

Only, his top priority right now was to get Takaba home. He would worry later about what to do with Feilong. When Takaba got better, he would think on it.

 _For now, home,_ Asami thought, while he absentmindedly stroked his fingers across the side of Takaba's face.  
  
  


༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  
  


It was a universal fact that Asami was not a good nurse.

This was even more evident when he tried to drug Takaba into a submissive sleep a few times in the month since they’d gotten back. Since it was indirectly his fault Takaba had been taken, Asami felt compelled to nurse him back to health. A plan that both men regretted during the first week.

It was obvious that Asami had experience in tending to the wounds of his men. Either that or he'd been well taught in the art of first aid. It was equally obvious that he had no patience for sick people who didn't immediately comply.

Which, in Takaba’s case, was all of the time.

Takaba did learn not to squirm and scratch while Asami changed his bandages. The threat to do irreparable harm to his camera more than ensured his cooperation on that front.

Takaba was not an invalid. At least, he didn’t think of himself as one. He was a fighter, a person who strove to improve himself and his skills on a daily basis. If the doctor said he couldn't walk yet, he would push and pull himself to the bathroom if necessary. It was embarrassing, as well as a blow to his self-esteem and pride that he had to rely on Asami and his good graces to carry him there. He was not a woman and he refused to be treated like one.

Sometime during the second week, Asami gave up on trying to catch Takaba before he escaped to the restroom by himself, resignedly providing him a four-prong cane to assist him on his trip. Takaba waited until Asami left to take care of some minor business before attempting to make his first solitary journey with the cane to the bathroom. Regardless to say, his first try took the whole two hours that Asami was gone.

Now, it only took him about ten minutes there and back. A vast improvement, he was sure.

Takaba was near his wits end. Ever since he'd woken to the sound of newspapers rustling a month ago, he'd been bombarded with more of Asami’s attention than he ever dreamed of. It was weird at first, being that he kept half expecting the man to jump on him and commence with the sex. Takaba couldn't be blamed for the assumption as most of the time in the past, any attention Asami fixed on him was quickly followed by Asami thoroughly sexing him up. 

Eventually, Takaba learned to enjoy the attention of someone taking care of him for twenty odd hours of the day. His pain medication was replenished before the pain even started. He was well-hydrated, well-fed, and well cared for.

Except he started feeling suffocated from the constant surveillance. If only Asami had pranced around in a pink apron, that would at least give Takaba something amusing to focus on. As it was, he was told to sleep, to eat, to take his medicine like the good boy he was supposed to be.

Uh, no. He didn’t think so.

All the frustration and culminating fear of too much time to think led to the tension that was constantly in their interactions now. Takaba was re-learning that he was a poor patient, while Asami was discovering that his patience was quickly flying out of the window.

“Just eat the damn soup.”

“No, I don’t want soup. I’m sick of soup. Did you take over a soup factory? Are you trying to get rid of the incriminating evidence in me or something? I want to eat something else.”

Asami surreptitiously gritted his teeth. “Eat. The damn. Soup. The doctor ordered you to stay on soft foods for at least another week. Then we can start you in on something harder.”

“I said I don’t want soup! Or miso for that matter!” Takaba huffed in frustration. “Look, Asami. I’m sure you’re busy or whatever. Just go. I can take care of myself.”

Asami stared at him. “You don’t like the soup,” he deadpanned.

Takaba paused just before vehemently agreeing. He looked around the room, at the side table that held his bandages and prescription painkillers, to Asami’s clothes that hung haphazardly in a splash of monochrome over his plush chair. It looked like nobody had been in to clean up after them. Then again, he looked pretty banged up. Anyone that entered the room was bound to wonder how he'd gotten into this state. He looked at the bowl again, at the soup that was watery in texture but to Takaba's previous experience, was still quite tasty. He finally glanced back at Asami and his eyes widened.

“Did you…?”

Asami watched him dispassionately before staring out the window. “Would you eat it if I had the maid make it instead?”

Takaba let out a hesitant smile, reaching for the bowl on the bedside table. He blew on the broth in his spoon before experimentally sipping. Asami ignored him and continued staring out the window.

“Thank you,” Takaba whispered softly just before he sipped the last spoonful of soup.  
  


༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  
  
  


“I need to go home,” Takaba started again, for the umpteenth time since he regained consciousness.

“No.”

“Asami, I need to check on my things. I’ve been gone too long. I hope the landlady hasn’t tossed my stuff onto the streets yet.” Takaba frowned as he imagined his precious cameras being run over by careless bystanders and passing cars.

“No.”

“No?! Look, you! Just because you came and got me from Hong Kong doesn’t mean you can keep me prisoner. I’m a slave to no one.”

Asami’s smirk faded slightly. “I know.”

“Wow. A two syllable answer. Anything else genius you have to say?”

Asami threw his paperwork back into its folder and finally looked up at Takaba. They were still lounging around in Asami’s bedroom, a room far roomier than any place had a right to be. It was customary for Asami to spend part of his day at the desk by the window while Takaba tried his darnedest to interrupt whatever Asami was trying to accomplish.

However, Takaba was genuinely worried about his camera and things.

“There’s no need for you to go back.”

“Eh?”

“Your apartment’s been cleared out.”

“It… has? Argh, no! My cameras were probably taken. What am I going to do? I saved and starved for three months for that Canon! It's got anti-discoloration proofed lenses! And my clothes!” Takaba looked down at his green and white striped boxers with a pitiful expression. “You poor thing. You’re all alone now.”

“Your clothes are probably on some hobo right now.”

Takaba winced and sank down into the sheets. “I need them, too, you know. If I don’t have a camera, how can I take pictures? Will the company even continue my contract? The apartment’s probably on back rent, and I haven’t even told the landlady yet that I’m back in Japan.” Takaba rolled onto his stomach, burying half of his face in the soft pillow.

Asami sighed before moving closer to sit by Takaba’s hips. He ran a large hand down Takaba’s back, and Takaba, having never experienced actual comfort from Asami before, held his breath and tried not to move.

“You’re staying here,” Asami started, pressing a hand into Takaba’s back to keep him from shooting up. “The situation with your apartment has been settled. I will not let you out of my sight again. You will live here, where it’s safe, and you will quit taking ridiculous risks for that job. I disposed of your clothing and I will find someone with actual taste to take you shopping for new ones,” Asami continued over Takaba’s indignant sputtering. “I made sure they packed your cameras carefully.”

Takaba fell silent at that last declaration, inwardly seething at Asami’s audacity to tell him how to live his life, but also grateful that his beloved cameras were fine. The gratefulness faded as Asami exclaimed, “Your films were confiscated and most of them destroyed. I never realized exactly how nosy you are, Akihito-kun, before I saw those. Just out of curiosity, how did you manage to take the one of Loki cross dressing from that angle?”

Takaba liked to think he heard a bit of admiration in Asami’s voice. “Like I’m going to tell you any of my trade secrets. You’d probably set up defensive surveillance from what I say. Yeah, I don’t think so. Look, Asami, I’m not going to live here! It’s not practical. And I’m not going to quit my job just because you told me to.”

“I didn’t ask you to quit your job. It’s freelancing, so you should be able to pick and choose what you decide to pursue. I’m asking you to forego the really dangerous ones. You’ve already gotten yourself into enough trouble. Be good.”

“No. I’m not your dog. Don’t give me commands. I’m a grown man and can take care of myself,” Takaba indignantly finished.

“Just like you took care to stay out of Feilong’s hands?”

Takaba flinched at that, making Asami feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“Why did you go after him? Why did you follow him, after you barely escaped his clutches? What possessed you to follow the armed triad, Akihito-kun?”

Takaba turned to the side and mumbled.

“Don’t mumble. I can’t understand you.”

“I said, I did it so I won’t owe you anything.” Takaba’s cheeks flooded with heat even as he threw Asami a determined look. “I betrayed you. If I managed to turn Feilong over to you, at least I wouldn’t owe you anymore.”

Asami continued to stare at him. “You mean, it would keep you from feeling guilty. I already told you, Akihito, what the price for betrayal was. You’re paying it as we speak.”

Takaba opened his mouth to protest before pausing with a thoughtful look on his face. “Is asking me not to take risks a part of the payback?”

Asami latched onto the opportunity immediately. “Yes.”

Takaba contemplated some more, then gave him an impish grin. “I see. Why do I feel like this has more to do with preserving your sex life than my safety?”

It didn’t. However, Takaba didn’t need to know that. “What else are you good for?”

His impish smile faded into a considering look, and Takaba tilted his head in a manner that told Asami he was about to be reckless. “You know, somehow that doesn’t sound right. You came for me. And you helped me get better. I’m not so insignificant to you anymore, am I?” He didn’t give Asami time to answer before he looked down with a little smile. “Don’t think I won’t still give you a run for your money. Business is different, so don’t let your guard down.”

An answering smirk lit up Asami’s face. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”  
  


༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  
  
  


“I’m so bored.” Takaba threw off the blanket to lie on top of the sheets, clad in nothing but his boxers. His wounds were healing up nicely, and he could now walk without limp or cane. Not that Asami was letting him leave the bed. “I said I’m bored.”

“So read a book.”

“I’ve already read everything you have here.” Takaba tried to keep the whining tone out of his voice, he really did, but it was just _so hard_. “There’s only so many times I can read _The Art of War_.”

“That’s a very good book. Teaches you how to deal with people.”

“People?”

“In general.”

“How does that even help my current state of boredom?”

Asami grunted.

“I don’t suppose you’d have a PS system, would you?”

Asami looked up from his paperwork.

“Even the first one would do. Or any system. Heck, I’d be happy to see an Atari system now, if you’ve got it shoved under a couch or in a closet somewhere.”

Asami’s eyebrow rose.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You had to have some kind of a childhood at least, right?”

Asami’s other eyebrow rose to join the first one.

“Uptight bastard. Okay, I’ll bite. What did you do for fun when you were a kid?”

“Beat up the weaker kids and steal their lunch money,” Asami dryly said.

“A thug in the making, huh?” Takaba chuckled with some disbelief. “Come on, really. What did you do for fun as a kid?”

"I'm serious. I _did_ beat up the other kids and take their lunch money. Or at least, I had someone else do it for me." He placed his newspaper down on the desk, studying Takaba with an inquiring gaze. Takaba smiled at him, charmingly and obviously still disbelieving his admission, and Asami’s lips lifted into an amused smirk. “Well, if you really want to know…”

“Oh, yes. Tell me this big secret of what you did as a kid to pass the time. It can’t be that bad, since you were still young.”

Takaba’s stomach sank at the sadistic smirk that widened on Asami’s face.

 

༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  ༒  
  
  


“Ung, ooh… you can’t tell me…. Ngh… A… sami…. You lying bastard.” Takaba’s legs shuddered. “I know you… aah!... didn’t do this as a kid.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong, Akihito-kun. I did do this as a kid. And quite frequently, too. With anyone I could catch. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“No, it doesn’t!” Takaba groaned. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take this. It’s been so long since he’s done anything this strenuous. He dug his fingers into Asami’s shoulder.

“Hold on,” Asami wickedly said before twirling them around. He slid his hand up the middle of Takaba’s back and leaned his face down. “Don’t lie and say it doesn’t feel good.”

“Don’t let me go, you bastard,” Takaba breathlessly panted. “If I collapse, it will be your damn fault. Asami!”

Takaba yelped as Asami tugged him closer, the better to slip his leg between Takaba’s. He tightened his grip on Takaba’s right hand and laughed as he back-stepped and twirled him again. “You’re so graceful,” he teased. “We might have to do this every day.”

Takaba panted, desperately trying to move his feet to match Asami’s directional pushes. In all honesty, Asami was a very good dancer, and there were moments where he just flawlessly led Takaba into the next step.

And then there were moments where the damn bastard executed an intensely complicated step just to trip up Takaba.

“Society is a strange place. You can do all kinds of evil and partake in all kinds of perversity, but if you show that you can perform the social graces perfectly, you’re considered civilized.”

Takaba breathlessly grunted.

Asami laughed again and slowed their steps, insistently pulling Takaba’s chest closer to his. They continued to waltz around the room, past chairs, tables, and sofas that had been pushed against the walls to make room for their dancing. An upbeat, melodic song played from the speakers that were strategically placed throughout the room. Low light made the room look softer than usual, almost lending it a romantic air.

Takaba focused on not tripping over his slippers.

They danced some more, Takaba doggedly picking up the steps, learning how to turn and shift his weight correctly, if only to spite Asami.

Except… it was nice to be here, doing this. With no demands and no expectations. Just Asami sharing his childhood memory with Takaba. Although Takaba still had some doubts that Asami would do this willingly as a kid.

They made a few more twirls, Takaba growing more relaxed as they danced. Asami pulled him even closer, their steps shortening and decreasing in speed as the next slow song played. Asami stopped spinning them then, swaying them in place with diminished box steps.

Takaba looked up at Asami’s face and it hit him hard then just how much he'd missed the older man while he was in Hong Kong. How much he missed Asami’s smirk, his hair-pull inducing arrogance, his sharp eyes and sarcastic tone. Takaba missed the half-amused, half-tolerant smile that Asami always gave him. He missed his touch, his roundabout concern, his protection.

But most of all, he missed _him_.

“I tried to get back to Tokyo. Back to here.” Takaba’s eyes swept to the side, almost feeling embarrassed that he was saying something like this. “I didn’t want to stay there, not when you were here.”

Takaba tentatively glanced at Asami, gauging whether he should stop what he was saying or continue. The serious expression on Asami’s face encouraged him more than it deterred him. There was no mockery to be found in those eyes.

“I… I tried to come back to you,” Takaba awkwardly rushed out. He hoped Asami knew what he meant. He just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Asami’s lips minutely twitched, his arms constricting Takaba to his chest. “I know,” he smugly said.

Irritation raced through Takaba at Asami’s cocky tone, but it immediately fled as Asami leaned down and gave Takaba their first kiss since before Hong Kong. He lightly licked at Takaba’s lower lip before they parted to let Asami in. Their steps slowed to a stop and Takaba let out a soft sigh as his arms wrapped around Asami’s shoulders.

He was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: Feb 21, 2016.


	2. Persuasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takaba smiled at him in a charming way that immediately set off Asami's danger sensors.

Asami realized that Takaba was healed and completely ready to move about when he came back after a quick trip to his office and found the bed empty. And the room. And the whole apartment. He was encouraged by the fact that Takaba had left his newly acquired clothes and other effects where they lay, but that could just mean that he either abandoned them or was coming back for them later.

Asami was annoyed and amused at the same time.

Takaba did not ask for his permission to leave. Were they back to the hunt and chase stage? He thought they moved past that stage. He thought they made progress on where they stood with each other.

Apparently, coaxing and showing his concern backfired. They were back at square one.

Well, maybe not square one, Asami thought about the dancing with a chuckle.

He didn’t want to admit that he felt relief when Takaba opened the front door an hour later with bags of groceries in his hand.

He wouldn’t admit it even as he contentedly ate the food that Takaba cooked for him.

He would never admit it even as he made Takaba throatily moan, writhe, roll his hips and give hungry, half-glazed looks up at him later that night.

***

 _~Six months later~_

Asami sighed again at the distinctive security beep that heralded Takaba’s approach. The beep was relegated to Takaba and only Takaba, being that he was the only one brave enough to invade Asami’s office at all hours of the day or night.

It amused Asami to see his guards placing bets on which hour Takaba would show up every day.

Taku, sitting at a desk placed to the side of the room, smiled broadly.

“Won a bet?” Asami amusedly asked.

“It’s kind of hard not to, Asami-sama, especially when I can see the pattern,” Taku unapologetically answered.

Asami’s eyebrow rose, wondering what the pattern was. From his point of view, there was no pattern. Takaba showed up randomly, loudly, and distractingly at odd hours of the day. He made a mental note to ask his head guard later on what this supposed pattern was. Knowing beforehand when Takaba would arrive certainly had its advantages.

Another distinct beep sounded, indicating that Takaba just entered the elevator. That gave Asami about a minute and a half to hide the evidence.

“Taku, take these folders and file them in the universal safe. Send these out to the lawyer to draft, and these down to official accounting. Those go to the private accounting.” Asami handed the indicated folders to Taku. “And fire Kikuno. He double book accounts. And make sure Takaba doesn’t get a glimpse of these. He’ll act like a fanboy on crack if he saw what I was involved in.”

Taku grinned and nodded, taking the folders in hand. He turned and swiftly left the room, most likely to miss having to cross paths with Takaba.

Asami had to admit that Takaba could be creative when he was trying to collect information. It was better to avoid him altogether.

Asami chuckled.

Instead of knocking, Takaba threw the door open and bounded right into the room. His bright yellow backpack hung on one strap off his shoulder and he waved his hand in greeting.

“You’re still working? What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to sleep during the day and conquer the underworld through nefarious plans at night? I swear, you never sleep. I wake up and you’re already awake and dressed. I come home and you’re ready to go at it like rabbits. You’re like a robot. Hey! Maybe you’re a pod person! It would certainly explain some of your freakish qualities.”

Asami quickly killed the smile trying to break free and put to use his most sarcastic tone. “A very thorough assessment. You’re babbling nonsense, Akihito. What do you want?”

“I’m hungry. Feed me.” Takaba smiled at him in a charming way that immediately set off Asami’s danger sensors.

“There’s food at home. Eat there.”

“I don’t want to eat at home. It takes too long to cook and I’m hungry now.” Takaba walked around his desk and sat on the edge, legs spread and ungraceful. Asami automatically slid his hand onto the seated man’s thigh. “Besides, I’m in the mood for McDonalds.”

“McDonalds,” Asami repeated with some trace of amusement. “You want to eat at McDonalds.”

“Yeah.”

“Do they have a special toy for the happy meal this week?”

Takaba stared at him. “You’re calling me a kid? Are you into pedophilia?”

“No. But I don’t mind a round or two with you calling me daddy,” Asami teased.

“Ugh, you’re so perverted. It’s just food. I’m not even asking you to pay for me.”

“I had assumed ‘feed me’ included me footing the bill.”

Takaba rolled his eyes. “Since when do I take your money? I can pay for myself, thanks. I meant, dazzle me with your ordering skills at this specialized establishment. How’s that for an invitation?”

“You sound like one of my business associates trying to sell me a bad deal.” Asami was thoroughly enjoying their banter.

“If you were unwary enough to take those deals, then you can take this one.”

“I never said those men were alive to finish the negotiation.”

“Okay. I’ll pretend I never heard that, right?” Takaba abruptly stood up and tugged at his strap. There was no trace of the smile that had come in with him.

Asami immediately tugged at Takaba’s wrist, shifting him so that he faced Asami again. “You know who I am.”

Takaba nodded.

“You know what I do.”

The nod came slower this time, carrying a wealth of reluctance. Asami’s good mood fled at the sight.

“This is what I do. I’m not sorry, nor am I repentant. It’s business. I do what I need to survive. Can you understand that? Can you accept it?”

“I—I don’t know. Some of it’s wrong, but… I don’t know.”

Asami ignored his disappointment and the slightly nauseous feeling in his stomach. He pushed those sensations down and retreated into his ice mask.

“Whether you do or not is irrelevant. We’re past the point for you to protest. You’re no angel, Takaba. Even you understand that not everything is absolutely right or wrong.” Asami turned his chair back and tried to focus on the mostly harmless papers sitting on his desk. “I have a lot of work still. Go on without me. I’ll see you tonight.”

Takaba took it for the dismissal it was and scowled. He dropped his backpack onto the floor and slammed a hand down on the small pile of papers in front of Asami. “Why do our talks turn philosophical all the time? I just want to eat. My belly is empty, therefore it needs to be filled with food. Knowing you, all you’ve done is inhaled cigarettes and alcohol. I want to eat. With you. Feed me,” Takaba declared firmly.

Asami’s eyebrows rose at the hand taking residence atop his papers and his eyes trailed the arm up to the unwavering face. “I’m still busy.”

“BS. Leave it for your lackeys. Come on, Asami. I know you want to know what french fries taste like. I’ll even let you order a parfait as long as you order enough greasy counterparts.” Takaba hesitantly moved his hand next to Asami’s on the desk. “Spend some time with me.” His hand inched closer to Asami’s. “We’re just eating.”

Asami looked back at his paperwork.

“I’ll share the pickle from my cheeseburger with you,” Takaba wiggled his eyebrows and teased.

Asami chuckled. “With an offer like that, how could I refuse? But I’m not wearing the plastic bib, Akihito,” Asami warned. “If you want to make a complete fool of yourself, do so. I want no part of it.”

Takaba smiled, grabbed his bag and proceeded to drag Asami out of the office.

He couldn’t wait to see everyone’s faces to find a smooth and unruffled Asami sitting amidst their company, eating a cheeseburger while in a thousand dollar suit. Takaba snickered. Maybe he’ll order Asami chicken nuggets and a happy meal. He ignored Asami’s distrustful gaze as he laughed all the way out the building.

***

“Let’s walk.”

“Where to?”

“Just… walk. You know, enjoy the scenery. Haven’t you ever just walked around and looked at the shop windows?”

Asami curiously looked at him. “Not really. I just usually send someone to pick up what I need.”

“Well, it’s not so much picking up something as just passing the time. Huh. I guess you don’t really do something just to pass the time.” Takaba laughed lightly and continued down the sidewalk.

Asami half turned and nodded to the driver, silently telling the drive to follow them. He would indulge Takaba with walking but he had a feeling they would need the car for their trip back. “You do this often. Window shop.”

“I do.” Takaba laughed again. “Not everybody can afford expensive suits, gourmet meals and silk ties.”

“It’s necessary that I make enough to afford those silk ties. You’re an expensive upkeep.” Asami slipped his left hand into his black suit’s pocket as they leisurely walked along. “One of my more pricey hobbies, in fact.”

“Really? You need normal hobbies. Me… at least I can use my hobby to earn money.” A wistful smile lit up Takaba’s face, and Asami let his lips tilt up just a bit as he watched Takaba speak. “I want to go to photo galleries in Paris, in New York. Learn more about catching still action photographs. It would be so cool if I could take pictures of incriminating moments notorious crime leaders get themselves into. I could check off countries as I crack crime!” Takaba’s infectious laughter garnered interest from a few surrounding people.

“You could do that. But then I would be targeted once I gave you refuge. I might just have to kill you myself then for causing so much trouble.”

“Aw, you wouldn’t kill someone who helped get rid of the competition, would you?” Takaba leaned over and bumped shoulders with Asami.

“No. But perhaps I’d beat him black and blue. Or possibly administer a spanking. Yes, I do believe spankings are in order.”

Takaba’s steps sped up, possibly to avoid the molestation he knew was bound to occur once Asami said something like that. Asami felt amusement and contentment sweep over him as he continued at the same pace after Takaba. Eventually, Takaba slowed so that they walked side by side again.

“Ne, Asami?”

“Hn.”

Takaba walked quietly, as if deciding how to word his next question. “How come Feilong hasn’t come after us, after you?”

“We’ve reached an agreement.”

They continued walking as Takaba continued staring at Asami. The man didn’t elaborate. “When? And… what was the agreement?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself about,” Asami said as he placed a hand at Takaba’s lower back to turn him towards a jewelry store. “We had our differences, a shoot out, and I finally understand how his mind works.” Asami looked down at Takaba with humor. “Kind of like yours, actually.”

Takaba’s cheeks flushed with anger. “He was a rapist!”

“He was in pain.” Asami tugged on Takaba’s arm to turn him around and tried to cup Takaba’s chin with his fingers. Takaba determinedly turned his head away. “When you’re ready, I want to tell you about him. I’m not excusing what he did to you. I can’t, since I’ve done the same.”

Takaba’s stunned look brought a dry smile to Asami’s face. “Let’s not discuss this today. I have other tasks in mind.”

Takaba nodded mutely, having been shocked that Asami would even admit to such a thing. Deep in thought, he didn’t notice the bracelet Asami pointed out in the window until his ear was flippantly yanked.

“Ah! What?”

“It’s very tasteful. I think it will do until we can have that tattoo removed.”

Takaba blinked before bringing his arm up to stare at the snake tattoo on his wrist. He tried not to think about it being there, branding him, and had managed to forget about it for a few hours. He glanced at the bracelet Asami pointed out. It was brushed gold, thick, yet very stylish. It would cover the tattoo completely.

He glanced up at Asami’s intense, honey colored eyes.

“I like the bracelet very much. But I can’t afford it.”

“You can’t but I can.”

“No, I don’t want you buying anything for me.”

Asami turned back towards the window and studied the white gold bracelet again. “Do you want me to solder it on you while you sleep?”

Takaba hadn’t thought about how Asami would react to the tattoo. He said nothing about it to Takaba. Now that Takaba thought about it, Asami should be extremely angry that something he considered his was marked. Takaba was surprised that Asami hadn’t removed it or burned it off immediately upon arriving in Japan. Surely he could concede to the bracelet. At least he wouldn’t have to see it branding him constantly anymore.

“Alright. I’ll accept the bracelet,” he agreed.

Takaba gasped. Asami’s small, genuine smile was worth more than he realized. Takaba didn’t think he would overly object to things if Asami’s smile was the reward.

***

Takaba disappointedly lowered his newspaper. He absentmindedly picked up his bagel slathered with mango cream cheese and took a bite. He chewed and chewed, thinking all the while that Asami truly was a ruthless man.

One man. His wife. His two children. All gunned down efficiently in their beds. The modus operandi was too similar to how Asami maneuvered to be mistaken for someone else’s work. No clues, no witnesses, and a clean death.

It was definitely Asami’s men.

Takaba wasn’t sure what the man had done to deserve his family such a fate, but Takaba was sure that Asami could have spared the wife and kids at least. They were innocent.

It was hard not to hear stories about his lover in his line of business. It was even more difficult to ignore his lover’s ruthless acts. The man did not change because Takaba was in his life, and for some unexplainable reason, that thought made Takaba feel sick. He softly placed his bagel half back onto the plate.

“Akihito, you’re still here?” Asami straightened the arm line of his jacket as he walked into the spacious dining room. Takaba’s heart raced a little at the handsome figure the older man cut. Asami paused by Takaba’s chair and drop a kiss onto his messy hair. Smooth and silky hair swayed gently as Asami continued to walk over to his seat and sat down. Takaba indiscreetly pushed the paper towards Asami, the article about the killing glaringly in view.

“Thank you. Do try the banana crepes. They’re extremely good.” Asami picked up the paper and immediately flipped to the business section. Takaba seethed.

“Aren’t you interested in the regular news? It’s about our society. I’m sure you want to know about our society.”

Without looking, Asami poured some cream into his coffee cup. “I know plenty about society. There’s no use in clouding my judgment with unreliable and sensationalized news.” Asami finally looked up at Takaba. “Why, Akihito. Is there something I should pay attention to? A new photograph you took, perhaps?”

Takaba gritted his teeth. They both knew that any photograph Takaba sent in to the newspapers was approved by Asami first. Takaba was getting tired of being teased. “Maybe I’ll send a naked photo of you to one of those dirty rag papers. Then we’ll see who is laughing.”

“But wouldn’t that just raise my popularity amongst the women? Are you dying for competition?”

Takaba felt a moment of jealousy before common sense broke in. Asami had spent too much money, time, and effort on him to discard him for another woman. Takaba essentially had nothing to worry about. It was economics, after all.

“Asami, was it really necessary?”

“Of you taking naked pictures of me? I wouldn’t say they were not entertaining.”

“That’s not what I meant, but admit it. You liked posing like a Greek god. You’re so egotistical,” Takaba grimaced.

“I recall you having more fun than I did. Something about Apollo riding the horse--”

“Okay!” Takaba glanced nervously at the door that led to the kitchen. “Geez, the maids will hear you.”

Asami smirked at him before going back to his newspaper. Takaba restlessly shifted.

“They deserved it,” Asami suddenly said.

“What?”

“That family. They deserved it. The wife was an accomplice. The eldest son was sixteen, but also the wing man for when they transfer the merchandise. The youngest was being prepared for the business. They all deserved it.”

“Deserved it?! Asami, they were probably only stealing business from you, right? How can that be paid back by killing them? You could have just driven them out of town, or whatever you yakuza do.”

“‘We yakuza’ eliminate traitors and enemies. We don’t, as you so eloquently put it, drive them out of town. The balance must be preserved. I cannot afford to be lenient.”

“Asami, you just killed them in their beds! Those were kids. They could have changed. They could have been reluctant or forced to follow their father. We could have saved them.”

Asami’s eyebrow arched. “We? What is this ‘we’ business. You are not to involve yourself in my affairs. And you are to stay out of danger. We agreed.”

Takaba sighed. “Asami…”

They quietly sat, Asami reading his paper and Takaba chewing morosely at what remained of his bagel. He was about to get up and leave when Asami spoke.

“The younger was trained by executing people. Those too weak to survive the transport.”

Takaba’s lips parted in surprise.

“Child prostitution, Akihito.”

Quietness fell with only the sound of Asami’s rustling newspaper to break the heavy silence.


	3. Risk & Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He couldn’t ask Asami. The man would immediately know he was up to something dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please read the warnings before you read this chapter. I don't want to unnecessarily scar anyone.

_~Two Years Later~_

“So… you’ll take this case?” Takaba’s sometimes boss asked him with ill concealed eagerness.

“Careful. I might have to ask for more money on this one. Why can’t you get some of the other boys to handle it?” Takaba amusedly asked.

“Ch. None of the other guys are as efficient as you in cracking these cases. They can barely get clear photos, or be in the right position. They don’t have the skills.”

“They’re not as reckless and crazy, you mean,” Takaba said with a quirk of his lips. “You’d think the boss would be more worried about his employees’ well being.”

“You guys are freelancers. You know the hazards of working cases.”

“Yeah,” Takaba scoffed. He raised an eyebrow at the seated man’s direction, unconsciously mimicking Asami’s disdained look. “And just why would this concern me?”

“Come on, Takaba. You haven’t done a case like this in a couple of years. Don’t you miss the glory, the tension, the danger?” he cajoled.

“Being chased, being beaten, being waylaid by a certain yakuza’s bodyguards?” The fact that those bodyguards belonged to Asami hung between them in the air. Takaba’s occasional boss shifted nervously in his chair.

“Uh, yeah…well… it’s not everyday that one of our connections has direct insiders privileges. Besides, that person never seems to harm you in any way.”

Takaba barked out in slightly annoyed, mostly amused laughter. “Not where you can see. He’s very competent at dishing out punishment. Besides, I did promise him I wouldn’t do anything that dangerous again. And you’re asking me to snap pictures that would take down the whole Kitazawa yakuza branch.”

“They’re his rivals, aren’t they? Wouldn’t this be doing him a favor?” His persuading boss rounded the desk and retrieved a glass of whiskey to offer Takaba.

Takaba was intrigued the boss would pull out the big guns.

“Okay, what is it? You never offer your prized whiskey, especially to lowly photographers like me. What are you keeping from me?” Takaba turned suspicious eyes on the man, noticing the little details now that Asami always tried to teach him to be aware of.

Slightly dilated eyes. Sweating on the forehead and nose. Shallow and slightly quicker breathing. Shifting eyes, constantly falling to the left side or right lower corner. The boss was constructing or omitting lies while having intense internal dialogue.

What Takaba saw did not make him happy.

Except that his heart started to race with excitement. He clamped down on the urge to just accept the first stimulating case he would have for the past few years and instead thought of how Asami would never admit he got upset when Takaba was hurt.

“What are you keeping from me?” Takaba repeated.

“There’s just some unrest. The usual, you know, amongst the different groups. There are rumors that something big is going to hit the wall, something about bad deals and one group planning to take out another. I want you to be there when it happens.” The nervousness fell away the more his temporary boss spoke. “Imagine the headline: ‘Yakuza takes the fall! The demise of an age!’ and we’d have the photographs to perfectly frame the history making article. Think of the publicity the photographer would receive. Think of the publicity our newspaper would get! Those papers would sell like pocky.”

Takaba, lost in the excitement of the headline, nodded. It would be exhilarating to be present as powers shifted and changed hands. He would be able to capture the exact moment it transferred with his viewfinder, immortalizing it with his skills and ensuring that the truth was shared with the mass public. Takaba’s heart raced faster and he opened his mouth to accept.

Asami’s tired and worried face from nursing him flickered across his mind.

Takaba asked instead, “And what makes you think that someone catching this moment wouldn’t be hurt? Being caught in the crossfire isn’t fun, and I’m trying to preserve my knees by not jumping off buildings anymore.”

“It’s not taking place at the warehouses. Not sure why yakuza loves those warehouses,” the boss mumbled. “It’s taking place in plain site, somewhere in Tokyo. Or at least, that’s the last we were able to determine. You’ll need to do some digging to get all the facts. But it would be easy for you to slip out unnoticed in such a crowded place. Or aren’t your abilities as well honed?”

Takaba bristled that his ability of taking incriminating photos was being questioned. “I haven’t lost anything! Fine. I’ll take the case. But I’m telling you now, if it gets too hot, I’m leaving.” Takaba had a feeling that if it did get too hot, he wouldn’t. From the boss’ smile, he apparently knew it too.

“No problem, Takaba. Here at the Sun, we’re always worried about our photographers’ health.” Takaba snorted. “Now, we don’t have any more information than what I gave you, so I hope you can find a lead through your connections?”

Takaba glared at the man. “Not those connections. I’ll use my own. And stay out of my business.”

“Uh… yes. Haha. Well, I’ll see you soon, hopefully with those photos. Oh yeah, and take care of yourself.”

“Yeah, sure,” Takaba wryly said before heading out the door.

***

Takaba could feel a tick developing in his right eye.

What the heck was everyone being so tight lipped for? He’s almost exhausted every avenue of information he has at his disposal but no one would talk. He was beginning to notice a pattern.

Friendly talk. Offer drinks. Ask questions. Fear. Immediately scurrying away.

What was wrong with these people? They were always tough stuff but most seemed to be genuinely afraid of giving Takaba the information he asked for.

Takaba started getting a sinking feeling about this case.

He ordered another strawberry Margarita from the bartender and tried to think his remaining options over. He couldn’t ask Asami. The man would immediately know he was up to something dangerous. And if the reactions of the men and women he has questioned was any indication, this case was hands-off dangerous.

Asami was going to kill him. After he screwed him to death, of course.

But it didn’t matter. Takaba already accepted the job and he wasn’t going to go back on his agreement, no matter what. Takaba was not the kind of man to renege on his deals.

So what to do now? He still has not found a lead. Somehow, he knew that whatever will happen would occur soon. He needed information now. But he only had two more sources he could check.

Takaba guessed it was time to pull off the dirty bad cop good cop routine. Without the good cop.

***

“Where did you hear this? How do you know this?” Takaba’s heart raced as his fingers dug hard into Minakura’s upper arm. He needed to know now whether this was a rumor or a fact. He knew now why his previous contacts were too scared to talk to him.

“Around. I have contacts, you know. Same as you’re doing with me,” Minakura grimaced. “Word underground is, Asami really messed up on that last deal with Kitazawa. The man double crossed Asami, taking that arms shipment and trying to sell it to Arbatov. That’s all I heard, man.” Minakura tried to unsuccessfully wrench his arm out of Takaba’s grip again.

Takaba, losing all patience and control, drove his fist into Minakura’s left cheek. The man yelped before slamming back into the wall, head cracking against the brick. Takaba pressed his fingernails in deeper into the man’s arm.

“That’s not all you know, is it?” Takaba impatiently demanded. “Tell me now, or I swear I’ll turn you over to Asami’s men later. I know you want to keep under the radar. Those men won’t allow you to live in peace.” Takaba didn’t stop to think how easy it had been to threaten the man.

“Alright!” Minakura held his cheek as he glared at Takaba. “Kitazawa wants revenge. Asami had a spy inside Kitazawa’s force and stole the shipment back as he was trying to make the deal. I heard Arbatov wouldn’t have bought the stuff anyway, something about not wanting to piss off the Triad. But in cases like these, Asami usually downgrades the men, if you know what I mean.”

Minakura fell silent and Takaba jerked harshly at his arm. He grunted before continuing. “Nobody knows why, but Asami didn’t kill him. None of the men involved. Highly unusual behavior from a ‘y’ member. Not standard procedure, you know. Kitazawa was given a warning slap and sent on his way. Others are seeing it as a surfacing weakness.”

“It’s not a weakness if you don’t kill someone,” Takaba growled.

“In this world, it is. It’s a matter of survival. Any weakness perceived will send others after the yakuza lord’s property. Mercy among traitors is a sign of weak point. The only mercy they’re allowed to show is among society as a whole and the innocent. Surely, in your line of work, you’ve seen this.”

Takaba felt shock as he finally, completely saw Asami’s situation. Asami couldn’t afford to follow Takaba’s views on what mercy was. Takaba hadn’t thought carefully on the different rules in which they each lived in. He had constantly pushed at Asami to be more lenient without stopping to think how such a practice would affect Asami’s life.

Takaba was scared now that he had made a fatal mistake.

“What else did you hear? Don’t force me to turn you in.”

“Alright! Asshole. Two of the factions agree with Kitazawa that Asami has become weak. He’s eliminated very few enemies in the past two years. Too lenient. More likely, they’re after his territory. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve heard that they’re eliminating him soon. Not sure how—hey!” Minakura broke off as Takaba suddenly released him and dashed out of the alley.

***

“Asami-sama, Kitazawa—”

“Placed out a hit on me?” Asami interrupted. “I was expecting it. That man will see any mercy as a weakness. At least when I do kill him, I can tell Akihito it was out of self-defense. I’m sure even Akihito-kun wouldn’t begrudge me preserving my own life.” Asami chuckled lowly and lit his cigarette.

“Are more guards necessary?”

Asami exhaled a trail of smoke. “Not too many. We don’t want him to know we’re anticipating him. Have a team do high-rise checks. Poison is another possibility. You know what to look for.”

Taku nodded. “What about the meeting tonight?”

“It’s better to be safe. Have someone scout the area before we arrive. We’ll use two arrival units. That should distract any possible assassins.”

“Yes, Asami-sama. I’ll prepare the men.” Taku turned and left the room.

Asami picked up the ring he bought yesterday. It was a direct set with the bracelet he purchased for Takaba two years before. When he saw it through the window, he knew that it would go nicely with the bracelet. He’d gotten it engraved today. Nothing mushy or disgusting romantic. Just the straight truth.

 _You belong to me._

The cursive corsiva lettering fit the design of the ring. Asami was very pleased. He would give it to Takaba tonight. Perhaps he’ll give it to him after he beat Takaba at a game of Goldeneye.

***

Takaba panted heavily as he ran faster than ever before. He raced down the sidewalk and hopped over a bench when other pedestrians wouldn’t make way after he yelled at them to. He was forced to take the subway partway across town, knowing that taking a taxi during rush hour would just delay him. The train moved so slowly to Takaba that he was about to scream in frustration. He had to get to Asami.

The yakuza was having a meeting at Club Sion tonight with the minister from the Diet building. Takaba gleamed from his contact that they would try to re-negotiate the deal Asami agreed with them from two years ago. Apparently, the new house member didn’t feel that Asami’s support was important. Takaba knew that Asami would set them straight fairly quick.

However, the fact that the entrance to the building was highly visible and accessible as a target to the surrounding buildings did not escape Takaba. He had to get there to warn Asami that his life might be in danger. He still owed Asami his moral debt, and he couldn’t let anything happen to Asami.

Takaba pushed his legs to go faster. In his rush to bypass several people, he jumped onto the blacktop of the street and recklessly ran alongside the cars moving slowly in traffic. He ignored the car honking its horn at him because in front of him was the most welcome sight.

 _Asami._

***

The sniper shifted to his right to better see through his sight. He was in a building across from Club Sion, one of the clubs owned by Asami Ryuichi. The targeted man had just arrived for his meeting with the Minister.

He leaned an elbow onto the window ledge, the better to steady his trigger finger. He couldn’t make a mistake. Asami’s men wouldn’t let him take a second shot. He kicked the discarded wrappers and empty plastic drink bottles near his feet to the side to spread his legs out more.

The room obviously had been well used by the now absent college students who lived there and the many exits along the building proved to be an advantage for the sniper. The angle to get a clear shot was also perfect. The fact that the building was a residential area kept it from being thoroughly searched by Asami’s men. It was the perfect vantage from which to complete his plan and he didn’t intend to fail.

The black limo had pulled up to the sidewalk but Asami had yet to disembark from the car.

He couldn’t completely take his eyes off the car, even with the suspicion that Asami somehow figured out the plan to assassinate him and sent guards to seek him out. He knew distractions that caused him to look away could be all the chance his target needed to disappear.

His headphone beeped.

“Report condition,” the voice over his headphone ordered.

“Condition negative. Target stationary but concealed. Unknown detection status. Request update.”

“Current update not possible. Stand by.”

The line fell silent as he kept his eye on the limo. No one entered or left the vehicle, and he was starting to get a sinking hunch that Asami was not in the car. There was no reason for the man to sit there that long, especially if the meeting he was arriving for was about to start.

Car horns honking to his far left made his grip on the rifle tighten compulsively. He slowly pulled back from the line sight, and while keeping his vision on the limo, let his peripheral vision pick up the commotion. A splash of brown hair moving quickly caught his eye and the sniper didn’t fully turn to look at him until the man called out with the name from his briefing files.

“Asami! I found you!”

The sniper’s eyes snapped to the figure the flustered man had called out to and belated recognized him from his briefing portfolio as the man exited a plain town car before it drove away.

Asami Ryuichi.

He quickly and efficiently readjusted his angles and peered through the sight. It would be a clean shot.

***

Takaba was so glad to spot Asami that he broke out into a wide grin. It had been worth it to push himself and get there in time. He would be able to warn Asami and in turn, Asami would be safe. Takaba was glad he abandoned his backpack on the subway. He wouldn’t have been able to make that distance in so short a time if he had extra weight on him.

“Asami! I found you!” Takaba let out a relieved laugh even as he huffed and puffed in air. He registered the displeased frown on Asami’s face as the man saw him approach, but he could see underneath was also amusement and tolerance.

Asami probably thought he was here to take incriminating pictures of him. No, that wouldn’t be accurate, for if that was his intention, Asami knew he wouldn’t announce himself like this. Asami more likely thought he was there to drag him off for dinner.

As the photographer ran forward, he finally took in the surrounding guards Asami had with him and suddenly felt foolish. Of course Asami would know about the future attempts on his life. He had connections, too, and he could probably predict Kitazawa’s actions just from playing in this game so long.

It didn’t matter. Asami was safe.

A familiar glint reflected in the corner of Takaba’s eye. Smiling still, he looked up to the side and felt his heart jump at the barely visible rifle barrel protruding from a third story window. His eyes widened in horror as he realized that _none of Asami’s men had seen it yet._

Asami’s sharp eyes followed his and immediately spotted the sniper as Takaba turned back around and without thinking, launched himself at his lover.

***

“Takaba! You damn brat!” Asami recognized the panic that leaked out into his voice. He saw it coming like a bad, slow motion horror film, the bullet arcing perfectly between people in the crowd and fitting into the small space that was afforded for that instant in time. If only one person had shifted, if only the angle had been a few degrees off, if only….

It flew towards them, with Takaba foolishly clinging with a death grip onto his upper arms, using his own body as a shield for the yakuza. Asami yanked with as much of his strength that he could, being in the awkward position and unstable footing that Takaba had thrown him into when he had launched himself at Asami. Takaba’s face buried itself into Asami’s neck. He felt the warm breath tickle his skin and irrationally thought how absolutely beautiful Takaba’s brown hair was. He managed to twitch them a few inches to the side by dropping his weight, dragging Takaba with him.

No! He stumbled and they both awkwardly rocked back. No, this was not happening! Unacceptable! Takaba moved back slightly and tilted his eyes up to his. Asami couldn’t look away from warm, gold-flecked brown eyes even as they widened from the shock of impact. Takaba’s lips parted as a gasp slipped through. Asami watched in horrified fascination as his lover lurched in his arms once, twice, making a wet choking sound before he coughed, small droplets of blood sprinkling onto Asami’s pristine suit.

“Akihito,” Asami breathed, and numbly lowered him down onto the grey asphalt. His hands slipped up Takaba’s back and he refused, absolutely refused for that second to think about the wet substance that could make his hand slip.

Less than a second. It had taken less than a second for Takaba to spot the sniper who shot and look at the damn mess they were in, what was Takaba thinking and where the hell were his guards?!

Takaba lifted a hand, paler than he had ever seen it and rubbed in placating motions down Asami’s cheek. “Shh. It’s okay,” Takaba barely choked out. Too fast, too fast, the world was starting to spin. Asami’s head felt lighter and he couldn’t seem to look away from Takaba’s face. “Shh.”

Asami realized then that he was hyperventilating, sucking in air as he was sucking in denial. How could this happen? How did he manage to let this happen? Takaba parted his lips again to say something else, but choked instead and emitted more dark trails of blood.

“Oh God, no…” Instinctively, Asami slapped his hand onto the wounds on his lover’s back. No wound on the front, which meant that the bullets were still inside. Inside. Asami had to get him to a hospital now. “Taku! Bring the damn car! We have to get to the hospital now!” Asami looked around frantically and saw that half his men were missing. He didn’t care. He wanted that car here now. “Taku,” he growled.

Asami clutched Takaba to his chest, applying more pressure to the wounds to try and stop the bleeding. Liquid still seeped through his fingers. His heart raced as he looked down at the sidewalk and saw the puddle of smeared blood there. So much blood. No, he was not going to lose Takaba to something as trivial as bullet wounds.

“Hang in there, you hear me? Hang in there, Takaba!” He hurriedly looked around and finally caught his head guard’s eye from across the way. Taku had his gun down and to the side, standing there directing men. A loose circle of men kept the panicking crowd away from Asami and Takaba, and Asami realized that the man had stepped into his position temporarily while he had been too shocked to take command.

“The car,” he firmly called. Taku nodded, sending a man running towards the limo.

***

“Akihito, hang in there. If you’re good and listen to me, I’ll take you to that photo galleria show. You remember, the one you’ve been teasing me about.”

Of course Takaba knew which one it was. He had wanted to go ever since he heard that Michael Kahn will debut his photographs for the first time overseas in Japan. He had bugged Asami offhandedly, knowing that the man had to be coaxed into it, not forced. It was the art of making Asami think that he had arrived at that decision by himself, and not through Takaba’s persuasions.

He would like to hear what Asami thought of those photographs.

“Fight, Akihito. The car’s almost here. We’ll get you the hospital, and then in a few days, you’ll laugh at me as I try to feed you soup. Just like that first time, remember?”

How could Takaba forget? Asami had made him soup, made it just for him. And although the soup had looked none too appetizing from being too watery, it had tasted divine to Takaba. Must have been the seasoning.

“I’m fighting,” Takaba rasped. He wasn’t sure if Asami heard him, as his voice came out more scratched and gasping than he wanted. The burning, icy pain radiating from his chest didn’t help his breathing either. He took small gasping breaths, feeling all the while like he was slowly drowning under thick liquid. The arms around his back tightened even more.

Takaba’s limbs grew heavy, cold, his arms sliding down one after the other from the death grip it had on Asami’s upper arms and shoulders. Even though he fought with all he had to maintain his grip on Asami, his arms slid down and hit the asphalt with a dull thud. He tiredly turned his face into Asami’s neck and parted his lips.

“A… sami…. I lo--”


End file.
